


Midnight Excursion

by Jerevinan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood, Cor is stand-in dad, Fluff, Other, Sneaking Out, Stargazing, baby!ignocts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12973065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan
Summary: Cor wakes up from an alert in the middle of the night - again. The small prince and his advisor-in-training have gone missing in the middle of the night. Again.For the prompt "Sneaking Out" for Ignis Fluff Week





	Midnight Excursion

**Author's Note:**

> This is from Cor's POV, but I hope to leave everyone feeling warm and fuzzy inside over his interactions with Ignis. :D

Cor heard the alert on his phone and knew from the sound what had happened. Another disappearing act from none other than the prince. This had become a common incident over the past few months since Regis and Noctis returned from Tenebrae. 

Cor dug his phone from his pocket and stared at the illuminated message box that flashed across it. The codename, “CARBUNCLE & TONBERRY” was printed across the top—a veiled message not even the lower ranks of the Crownsguard would be familiar with if they saw a superior officer’s phone. “Carbuncle” referred to the prince; the addition of “Tonberry” meant that Ignis went with him.

The drive from Cor’s apartment to the Citadel was less than five minutes. At eleven in the evening, almost no cars were on the road. Cor liked that time of night, but he enjoyed sleeping through it even more.

Everyone met in the lobby. Regis looked exhausted as he paced the floors in his robe and slippers. He no longer panicked when his son went missing. Clarus arrived shortly after Cor, dressed in casual wear and a scowl.

“Again, your Majesty?” said Clarus.

Some of the other council members looked as furious as Regis and Clarus. Anyone would be grumpy to be pulled out of bed shortly after retiring for the night. Summoned to the throne room and told they needed to form a search party for an errant prince and his best friend.

“What happened?” asked Cor.

Regis threw up his hands in exasperation. “The nurse discovered both their beds and rooms empty when she went to check on them.”

It had been commonplace when Noctis was younger for him to sneak out of his bed and go to Ignis’ room, or for him to talk Ignis into sleeping with him. Little boys were inclined to be frightened of monsters or spirits, and in a Citadel that held up the wall that kept daemons at bay, there were always things to find scary. But these days, they went further and further away from their rooms. 

“Do you have any idea where they might’ve gone?” Cor asked the nurse. 

She hugged herself and shook her head. No doubt she feared being fired—this had happened for the fourth time under her watch. But even nurses had to sleep, and despite Regis’ fury and the grumpy sleeplessness of the council, the only ones in trouble would be two little boys when they were found.

Cor ticked off the locations the children were found in during previous incidents. The first time, a guard stopped the two from entering the gardens. The second, Noctis and Ignis had successfully slipped out of the Citadel via an unknown route and were brought back in by the patrolling guards hours later. Last time, it hadn’t even been in the evening. The two boys slipped onto a public bus to make way for a museum to see a constellation exhibit. They never got in—admissions recognized the prince and called the proper authorities.

Cor snapped his fingers. Everyone in the room turned to him.

“Do you think they wanted to view the stars?” said Cor. “Ignis carries that book around with him everywhere—the one with the star charts. I see them in the back of the Regalia with it all the time.”

Regis scratched at his beard, frowning. After a brief pause, he nodded. 

“Where should we look first?” asked Clarus.

Cor ran through the mental map of the Citadel in his head.

“I don’t think they’d try someplace they’ve gone before,” said Cor. “They might be kids, but they’re old enough to know the first places we’d check. They won’t go back to them.”

Clarus raised an eyebrow almost to his hairline at that. 

“Are you sure you aren’t a parent?” asked Regis. “You know a lot about them. Do you have secret offspring, Cor?”

“I’m always taking care of yours. Speaking of the boys…”

“You have an idea?” 

“I think everyone should check the rooftops. Did anyone check to see if they had taken their coats from their closets? If they were wearing shoes or slippers?”

The nurse stepped closer to Cor and bowed her head.

“Excuse me, sir.” She took a deep breath. “They didn’t take their shoes, but their slippers were gone. They didn’t have their coats, but his Highness took his favorite blanket.”

Cor turned to Regis for further orders. The King’s brows creased, eyes burning with a mixture of fatherly concern and exasperation. Cor did not envy the boys and the increased homework they would have after this incident. But he also couldn’t disagree with the punishment. Though he happily remained childless, Cor had an attachment to all his friend’s children, especially Ignis and Noctis. They left shriveled vegetables hidden in the Regalia when Noctis rejected his carrot sticks for snacks, giggled over books about fish with him when they couldn’t go to the reservoir, and stuck out their tongues to show him how green they turned after eating gelatin.

Cor wanted to find them—soon.

“Clarus, why don’t we try the skywalk? And Regis can assign others to check the rooftops.”

Clarus followed next to Cor as they made their way to the elevator. Neither of them spoke until the doors to the lift closed.

“How are Iris and Gladio? Will they be all right?”

“They’ll be fine,” said Clarus. “At least I can trust them to behave. Gladio has never pulled anything like this.”

“And Iris?”

“Iris is three.” Clarus’ mouth twitched in resistance, but then spread into a grin. “She might be the type in the future. She’s a stubborn, adventurous one.”

“Let’s hope when you’re busy chasing her, these two will have stopped their little excursions.” 

“I feel quite sorry for these boys,” said Clarus. “Regis’ patience is wearing thin tonight. It’ll be a scolding heard across from one side of the Wall to the other. He’s been a bit soft because of what Noctis went through, but no more.”

The past few months had purged some of the gruesome memories from all their minds. For people like Cor, who didn’t witnessed the Marilith attack, it could be easily forgotten. But Clarus had been with the family in Tenebrae. Without him, Regis and Noctis might not have safely made it back to Lucis at all.

For Noctis, who had lived through both those moments and seen more death and destruction than any little boy should have, the moments must have left mental scars as well as the physical ones. His back revealed a story no one else could retell. The happy child who used to bounce down the hallways with his toys and asked the guards prying questions no longer had the same skip to his walk. He traded his light-up sneakers for plain ones and no longer wore colorful cartoon shirts beneath his traditional black jackets. 

Only fishing and video games could beckon out the boy they had all known before. And even he wasn’t the same.

Noctis would never be the same. Not a million comic books or a thousand new toys would erase the bloody images in his mind and the puffy scars along his back.

But Noctis had Ignis. For whatever reason, Noctis hadn’t pushed the other boy away. This little boy who still tried to make vegetable appetizing, who tried to tell Noctis biweekly how there were no piranha in the reservoir, who reprimanded the prince for his rude behavior. Ignis never rejected him.

While Noctis was in a coma, Ignis stayed in the infirmary. Fell asleep at his bedside. Held his hand and whispered words of encouragement. While Regis tried his best to visit his son daily, Ignis could be there nearly all day. He set his books on the mattress and studied in-between reciting nursery rhymes to his friend. The two were inseparable before. When Ignis couldn’t go to Tenebrae, he threw a tantrum that had shocked them all, for Ignis had seldom ever been a behavioral issue. He wept upon news of the attack and withdrew from his uncle. Once Noctis came home, the two clung to each other closer than they had been before.

Ignis insisted that he should have been there to protect Noctis. And how could Cor blame him? Cor’s desire from a young age had always been to protect his king, too, and no one had let him go to Tenebrae. His orders to stay behind had made him want to throw a tantrum, but he was thirty years too late to be forgiven for an outburst of that nature.

Months later, seeing Noctis change so drastically, Cor wished even more that he had been there.

Clarus glanced over at his corner of the elevator.

“Is something the matter?”

“Thinking about Tenebrae. Again.”

“What’s done is done.”

“I know that. But Noctis…” Cor checked the level. They still had two more floors as they traveled upwards to the skywalk. “He’s not the same as he was before. How can any of us be the same, especially those who were there? You can’t tell me you’re the same?”

“No,” said Clarus, sucking in a deep breath. “None of us are. You’re right about that. I suppose it has been hardest for Noctis, but that doesn’t excuse these excursions. All of us have a duty, including the prince.”

“I know.” 

The elevator let out a soft ring and the doors slid open. Cor stepped out before Clarus and led the way through the halls. This part of the Citadel—during the day—opened to tourists. The corridors were clear at night. Not even a janitor could be found, which made their job harder since janitors were often as useful as guards when it came to witnessing little boys running around in areas they shouldn’t have been.

As they turned into the skywalk that ran from one tower of the Citadel to another, Cor spotted a mass gathered in the shadow, out of way of the moonlight. It looked like someone had dumped a pile of bedding there.

“I think we found them,” said Cor, picking up his pace. 

Ignis and Noctis curled up against one another under Noctis’ favorite blanket, a precious book tucked under Ignis’ arm.

“They fell asleep…” Cor glanced over at Clarus, who was pulling out his phone. Not to call Regis, as it turned out, but for pictures. Cor turned his head right before the flash went off. Somehow, the burst of light did not wake either of the boys.

“They’re adorable,” cooed Clarus, glancing down at his phone. “Let me get another shot.”

Cor folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” asked Clarus, posing his phone for another photo. 

“Aren’t you a father? Where is your parental concern?”

“They’re not _my_ children. Even if they were, I’d want someone to take a picture and send it to me, when I was no longer mad enough to throttle them.” Clarus smirked. “Regis is going to love this.”

Cor waited until Clarus clicked another half dozen photos before he reached down and gingerly slid the book out from under Ignis’ arm. He cracked it open and noticed that Ignis—according to the handwriting—scribbled on slips of paper and used them as bookmarks. They noted the constellations and planets visible this time of year, while others marked better viewing times. 

“I guess this is why they came up here.” Cor slapped the book closed and held it up to Clarus.

“That explains why they’re always trying to go outside. The skywalk is a little safer—not that I condone them leaving their beds at night.”

“Of course not.” Cor stared down at the two children. “Should I wake them?”

“No, let’s carry them back to bed. I’ll call Regis and update the alert.” 

“You should have done that before taking all those pictures.”

“And risk waking them up?” Clarus shrugged and clicked away at the screen on his phone. “Couldn’t risk it.”

Cor peeled back the blanket and lifted the nearest child off the floor. Ignis let out a small moan in protest. He was still wearing his glasses. Cor nestled the book against Ignis’ chest before tucking his arm beneath the boy’s knees. 

“I guess they didn’t expect to fall asleep,” said Cor. “I wonder if they got to see any constellations…”

“For this stunt? I hope so. They’ll see nothing but textbooks for several days, so they might as well have gotten what they set out for—otherwise, what a waste.” Clarus snorted softly as he bent over Noctis and wrapped him up in his blanket before picking him up.

“You try to sound gruff, but under that exterior, we all know you’re as soft-hearted as the rest of us.”

Clarus narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare tell a soul. Especially not my children.”

“Oh, I’m sure Iris and Gladio were the first to figure it out.”

Clarus led the way back to the lift. Cor leaned against the corner of the elevator. He should have been in bed, as asleep as the two children. But as they descended to the residential floor, Ignis stirred, and the book in his arms slipped. It smacked against the floor. Ignis’ eyes popped open at the loud noise. 

“Can you put me down, please?” Ignis wiggled and slid out of Cor’s arms before he could finish kneeling down to place the child back on his feet. Ignis retrieved the book and hugged it close to his chest, peering over at Noctis. “Is he asleep?”

Clarus nodded. “Yes, and you ought to at least pretend you are, too. His Majesty isn’t too happy with either of you.”

“Oh. Well…” Ignis stared down at his socked feet. “It was my fault.”

Cor and Clarus exchanged knowing looks. Neither of them believed Ignis for a second, but the boy had a responsibility to take care of Noctis. Not only as the eldest, but as a future chamberlain. 

“Come here,” said Cor. “I’ll carry you back to your room. Keep your eyes closed, and give me your book. I’ll hold onto it for you.” 

Ignis passed over the book, which Cor tucked under his arm, and then allowed himself to be hoisted up. This time, he wrapped an arm around Cor’s neck and rested his head against his shoulder. 

Regis was waiting for them in front of Noctis’ room. He seemed more relieved than angry at the sight of them, but if they had been awake, it might have been a different story.

“They seemed interested in this,” said Cor, handing Regis the book.

Regis flipped through the pages, brows furrowed. His fingers smoothed the paper bookmarks against the pages. He let out a soft sigh and relaxed.

“Clarus, let’s put my son to bed. I’ll give him my opinion in the morning.”

Clarus and Cor both tried to hide their smiles and laughs, but both failed. Regis raised an eyebrow. 

“I won’t soften overnight,” said Regis, but the severity in his voice was an act. He brushed out the front lapels of his robe and straightened his shoulders. “These two rascals…”

“Reminds me of a certain prince I knew,” said Clarus. “He used to run about the halls and gardens, dragging in mud and fistfuls of the gardener’s prized lilies. He didn’t listen to his parents’ rules or instructions and was inclined to talk back. I remember a certain shield dragging him away before his father could get his hands on this little prince.”

“Yes, I remember you shouted apologies for my behavior over your shoulder while you dragged me away.”

“Children will be children,” said Clarus, grinning. “This one isn’t even half as mischievous as you were. I say you ought to be grateful.”

“It’s a law that you cannot bring up a prince’s misdeeds as a child.” Regis glanced down at his son. “Unless you’re the father,” he amended quickly.

“I’m sure his Highness will appreciate that last bit when he’s older,” said Clarus. He nodded toward the bedroom door. “Shall we get him in bed?”

“Fine.” Regis swung open the door and stepped aside to allow Clarus to go in first. “Goodnight, Cor.”

“Goodnight, your Majesty.”

Cor adjusted Ignis in his arms. The boy lifted his head as soon as they were in the bedroom, door shut behind them.

Cor set him on the bed. “Well, um. I guess I’m supposed to tuck you in.”

“I can do that myself.”

“Right.” Cor rubbed the back of his neck and waited for Ignis to crawl under the covers. “The two of you shouldn’t get out of bed. If you want to see the stars, you could ask me to take you. I’m sure we could get permission from the King, if it’s a special occasion.”

Ignis’ eyes lit up. “Really?”

“I’ll talk to him about it. Until then, try to stay out of trouble. I can’t convince his Majesty unless the two of you behave yourselves.”

Ignis didn’t meet Cor’s gaze, instead settling down under the covers. 

“Please?” By the Six, was he pleading with a child?

“I’ll try.”

Cor sighed. Everyone in the Citadel knew Noctis was responsible for all the mischief. The only reason Ignis ever got away with taking the blame had more to do with him being older and irresponsible with his post. He should have fetched an adult whenever Noctis snuck out, instead of chasing after him or going along with his plans. Not that anyone let Noctis get away with it, either, but his punishments were always less severe.

“It’s for Noctis’ own good. And your own.”

Ignis fingered the corner of his blanket, picking at a loose strand. 

“Give it some thought,” said Cor, sighing. “I’m sure his Majesty would approve the plan if you both stay out of trouble.”

Ignis nodded, giving Cor the barest hint of a smile. To that kid, Noctis made up the stars, the planet, his world. The admiration and love was evident in the way he tried to protect Noctis from the consequences of his misbehavior, the gentle persuasion he used to convince Noctis carrots were edible in cake form, and the quickness with which he took responsibility for their misbehavior.

Cor understood that. He loved Regis as much as Clarus did. Those bonds were not easily broken. 

“Goodnight, Ignis,” said Cor, but by then, the little boy on the bed had fallen asleep. What he dreamt of, Cor would never guess, but he hoped it would be happy dreams with Noctis in them. The two of them could go on adventures. In the dream world, they would stay safe and could even stay children, even if it only lasted a night.


End file.
